Billabong Books Missing Moments
by princess finwe
Summary: This is a series of snapshots from the "Billabong Books", a series written by Australian MGB in the early 20th century. They focus on the lives of the Linton and Meadows families living on a station in northern Victoria. These snapshots cover some of the "missing moments" from the series.
1. On the veranda

**On the Veranda**

 **(During _Son of Billabong_ , winter 1925)**

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 ** _This is a missing moment from the time after little Davie Meadows has gone missing (presumed dead). The book does not follow Norah and Wally at all after the loss of their small son and I felt that there had to be a scene focusing on them rather than the Wallaces or Mrs. Benton. They are, after all, the parents._**

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Little Billabong was very quiet. The oddly-shaped house, screened from the main station dwellings by a belt of trees, was perfectly silent—in spite of the winter sun which had already risen halfway to its zenith. Had one ventured a little closer to the cozy dwelling, one might have realized that its inhabitants were, indeed, awake; one merely needed to progress to the north-facing veranda to discover the mistress of the house. Both Norah and Wally had become so accustomed to practically living outdoors in childhood days at Billabong that, upon transplanting themselves to their new nest, the habit was perpetuated. Thus, despite the brisk morning air, the deck chairs upon the veranda were occupied by two long forms. One – the taller of the two – had ensconced his form upon a long seat, whilst the other sat straight and upright in a wicker chair. Her fingers moved with deft sureness, wielding a pair of slender knitting needles wrapped in green wool.

Wally stared at the ceiling, his hands beneath his head. The ordinarily merry face was lined, etched into something which almost resembled a frown. Grief had come to disrupt Wally's cheery youthfulness, affecting a hurt which ran deeper than any previously inflicted through pain and war, with the loss of his son.

As if realizing the pensive mood which lingered within the quiet corner of the veranda, Wally shook himself and sat up. His brown eyes fell upon Norah, who met his gaze squarely as she continued to knit. His lips tilted in an attempted smile, which she returned with quiet gentleness. Just as pain had imprinted itself upon Wally, the weeks since Davie's disappearance had wrought a great deal of change in Norah Meadows. There was a grim resolve in the set of her chin, and if her eyes were more hollow or her face become gaunt with passing days, none had dared mention it to her. The image of bravery which she clung to with all of her quiet strength was written upon her face; the sight of her struggle caused Wally's throat to catch peculiarly.

"Norah, asthore," he began hurriedly, rising with due regard for the length of his frame and attempting to dispel the odd lump with mixed success, "What do you propose to do today?"

The lady addressed paused in the making of the green garment and placed it upon her lap. Wally crossed the veranda in two strides to perch on the arm of his wife's chair, gritting his teeth and hoping Norah did not notice his flicker of weakness. If she did, she gave no sign.

"I don't believe there is anything of consequence we must attend to," she said, slowly. "We might go and visit Dad and Jim and Tommy?"

Wally hesitated a moment, and the brief silence told Norah all she needed to know.

"There's no need to go over; we visit so often it's a wonder they haven't turned us out before now!"

When Wally's ready laughter was not forthcoming at her playful comment, Norah glanced up enquiringly. Caught with his thoughts elsewhere, he swiftly adopted an expression of cheerfulness which he knew was decidedly unconvincing. Norah moved to one side of the basket chair and touched her husband's hand. He slid instinctively from the arm onto the seat, and Norah settled on his knee. After a moment's stillness, Wally's arm encircled her waist, pulling her close until her shoulder rested against him. He breathed deep, taking in the scent of her hair which curled against his cheek.

Several minutes later, Wally sighed.

"You'd think on a station this big there would be some bullocks to muster, or—or some form of ready work, Nor," he muttered, low, voice catching. "Work—work helps. I think I could stand it better, if I could work."

Norah sat upright, her eyes brimming with pity and love. One slim brown hand reached out to smooth the lines upon her husband's tanned face.

"Wally, dear—I know it is hard—"

He could not stand it. Pulling her close again with both arms, his resolve broke. Shame mingled with grief as sobs shook his strong shoulders. Norah's cheek pressed against his hair, and her hand sought his in the gesture of love which succeeded where words could not. She could not speak—but she understood.

It was some time before Wally regathered himself, unspeakably thankful for the firm pressure upon his fingers.

"He's—he's gone, Nor," he whispered, after a time. "I know he's not alone, I know God must make a special effort to look after kiddies like Davie, and we shall see him someday—but oh, it's beastly!" His breaths quickened, and he swallowed hard. "And I know you simply can't— _won't_ —believe he's gone, Nor, but I can't help but think it. He was such a dear little chap, so very alive and cheerful and entirely ours—"

Norah laughed. It was a pitiful sound, echoing a mother's grief. To those outside, Norah was a tower of implacable strength, never wavering save for those moments of overwhelming pain in which only Wally could truly share.

"Sometimes I think I am foolish to believe in some form of miracle. Yet I can't help but think that in all those moments we have most needed a miracle, there has never failed to be one," she said, simply.

Wally sighed. "You are so certain."

"I find it is best to be so."

"Would—would you like to go over and visit Dad, Nor?"

"I don't think so," she whispered. "As much—well, it can be rather a laborious job, can't it darling?"

He nodded wordlessly against her soft cheek.

For some time they remained thus, drawing comfort from the nearness of the other. There are some moments which are poorly expressed in words. Being sensible people, Norah and Wally were well aware of this and refrained from speaking until the former took up her knitting once more.

"Tell me what you are making with your clever hands, woman," he said, pressing his clean-shaven chin against her shoulder.

Norah held up the garment for his perusal; it was a small knitted sweater, about the size a small boy of 2 or 3 might wear.

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 **If you're reading this and wondering what I have written, feel free to pm me. As mentioned in the fic description, these are a series of missing moments from a book series called the "Billabong Books" by Mary Grant Bruce (MGB), written in the early 20th century about Australia and station life in Victoria. The books are old and dated in a lot of ways (at the time MGB wrote them, casual racism was very acceptable). However, the books are beautiful stories, newer editions have edited out some racist terminology, and the main characters are merely a product of their environment. They are kind, generous, well-rounded people and the books are absolutely worth a read. As I said, pm me if you have more questions as they are an excellent read!**


	2. Heading home

**Heading Home**

 **(After _Billabong's Daughter_ , Autumn 1921)**

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 _ **This is a missing moment set after the conclusion of**_ **Billabong's Daughter _, when Wally has been hospitalised after being attacked by Ben Hunt on Burrin Downs. This scene shows Norah, Jim and Wally preparing to travel home to Billabong from Brisbane._**

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Norah paused whilst Jim leaned into the cab and paid the fare. Roma Street Station was bustling with people despite the early hour; not for the first time, Norah was vaguely grateful for the Linton predisposition towards length. Anyone many inches smaller than her brother might have had greater difficulty in navigating a wheelchair and several trunks through the Brisbane traffic.

Wally grinned up at her from the chair; aside from the cast which encased his leg, he appeared in rude health. "Nice to have Jimmy making himself useful for once, isn't it?"

"Careful," she replied, an eyebrow raised, "or else he will hear you."

"Not he—the taxi driver is causing him no end of trouble. I daresay it's a good thing I'm crippled, or else I'd have to avenge his death by a disgruntled taxi driver!"

He gestured in Jim's direction; that gentleman appeared uncharacteristically ruffled. He was speaking to the taxi driver with a bewildered expression, before seeming to give it up as a lost cause and parting unwillingly with several more notes. The taxi purred away and Jim moved to rejoin his sister and friend.

"It appears you came out the worse in that encounter, James," said Wally, with an unconvincing look of sympathy. "What did our friend desire? Half of Billabong?"

Jim snorted. "A fare more than thrice what it should have been—on account of the wheelchair, I suppose, though he did nothing to help us load you up, you old loafer!" He surveyed his friend with mock disapproval. "He looks awfully chipper for an invalid, Norah, does he not?"

"He does," she agreed, firmly. "Come on, we ought to find a porter and get this luggage stowed."

"Just you leave that to me, Nor; you take our unwelcome responsibility over there and sit quietly whilst I deal with the luggage. And for goodness sake, don't lose him!" Jim called over his shoulder, loading the trunks onto a trolley and disappearing into the crowd. He was difficult to miss, towering head and shoulders over most people, and Norah smiled softly.

"Do you wish my poor leg to be jostled by every passer-by, young Norah?" demanded Wally, looking at her with an aggrieved expression.

"Steady on," that lady laughed, deftly navigating the wheelchair and positioning it beside the bench Jim had indicated. "There—are you satisfied now, Mr. Meadows?"

"Quite, Miss Linton," came the airy reply, though he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "And Nor—you'd better let Jim wheel me about once he's dispensed with our bits and pieces. I'm far too heavy and awkward a lump for you to be pushing along."

Norah merely smiled, her grey eyes twinkling. "I suppose I must become accustomed to these sort of demands, when we are married; shall my activities be confined to riding side-saddle and embroidery, Wally?"

"Only if you persist in carrying objects that are too heavy for you," he stated, resolutely. For an instant his face was serious. "It makes a man feel an awful worm to be pushed about by his fiancé—do let Jimmy take over, Nor, to please me."

"Ordinarily, I watch you flinging yourself about without any regard for your own skin; you must allow me the pleasure of having you safely confined to a chair where I may watch you to prevent you from getting into any sort of mischief," Norah said, comfortably. "You mustn't protest, after you ran away up here and landed yourself in hospital! But if you like, Jimmy may take over as wheelchair-pusher-in-chief."

"And I after escaping you, woman!" came an injured reply, in an Irish lilt. "'Tis the hardest luck in the world, that I should find myself in a hospital. But you have eased my mind greatly—if I brought you back to Billabong all done in from heaving me along the station platform, whatever should I tell your father?"

Norah smiled slightly. The slow weeks at Wally's bedside had been wearisome, albeit punctuated by hearty laughter. Even after he had returned to consciousness, the doctors had taken some time to be satisfied that their patient was fit to endure the long train journey from Brisbane. Wally had made matters worse by doing his utmost to leave his bed unauthorized; only Norah's stern glance had had the capacity to quench him, and that amidst much protest. Finally, he had been permitted to sit up near the window, and take turns about the park in the wheelchair. Norah was uncertain who had been more relieved when the doctor had given his permission for travel; herself, Wally, or Jim, who was scarcely less restless than his chum in the hospital room. Still, there was no patient better than Wally for cheeriness. In the face of pain, discomfort and restlessness, he had not ceased his joking and implacable good humour. Freddie's presence had added to the uproar, turning the hospital room into such a cheerful place that the nurses had given up hushing them as a bad job. The Lintons and Wally had said their goodbyes to Freddie that morning, with promises of his coming for the much-anticipated wedding.

"What are you thinking of, Norah, asthore?" inquired Wally, cheerfully. "I suppose after we have been married twenty years I shall know the meaning of that expression, and regret ever having disturbed you now. As it is, I am merely an ignorant young fiancé, and you will have to forgive me and kindly share your thoughts."

"I am thinking how glad I am we are able to bring you home," she said softly, eyes falling to study her hands.

Wally's response was slow. "And I am very thankful that I am welcome."

Norah turned to look at him with a bemused expression. "Why ever shouldn't you be?"

He shrugged helplessly, looking unnaturally serious. "I suppose I was frightened, Nor. If you were to think of me as a kind of second-best brother—how should I endure Billabong if you could not care for me? Or worse still, if I should have to watch you marry another! My, how I disliked Bob in those days. If I were to speak, and you were to refuse, I could never have stood it. I have known your father most of my life, and yet would you believe it, Nor—I was scared of asking him," he admitted, smiling ruefully. Then he looked at her. "And I had nothing to fear."

"No." And she reached out with one slim brown hand and placed it over his. They sat in silence, perfectly content if it took Jim all the time in the world to get their luggage stowed on the train—for Wally was coming home, and this time he would stay.

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 **Please see the end of missing moment #1 for my little blurb on Mary Grant Bruce and all her fabulousness. Hope you enjoyed this!**


	3. Riding

**Riding**

 **Autumn 1926**

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 **A missing moment set after _Son of Billabong,_ wherein Wally and Norah ride a pony with their small son, Davie.**

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"Hang on with your knees, old chap!"

"Mine is hanging on wiv mine knees!" came the rather indignant reply.

Wally grinned as Norah led the small Shetland pony past his vantage point on the cap of the fence. Perched atop the stout black creature was a tiny boy, with hair scarcely less tawny than his mount. He was tall for three, with curls and sparkling brown eyes that mirrored his fathers in an uncanny likeness. At this particular moment, however, his face was twisted in a frown of concentration, his chubby cheeks flushed.

Wally observed closely as his wife brought the pony on another circuit of the small paddock. He saw her turn and speak to Davie for a moment, before breaking into a slow jog which urged the Shetland to a trot. Davie's countenance was filled with alarm for a moment, before he gripped as firmly as one could expect with his chubby legs. His father, meanwhile, turned a providentially blind eye to the grim clutch on the pommel as the Shetland's short stride jostled him about the saddle.

Norah slowed to a walk as she reached Wally.

"Very satisfactory," the latter smiled, squeezing Norah's hand. Davie beamed up at his father.

"Mine hold'em on plenty good, Dad!"

"Indeed you did, little fellow. Well done! You'll do your mother proud someday."

"He'll do his mother proud now," said Norah, firmly. "I was excessively proud of how he stuck on when we trotted."

Davie nodded vigorously to accentuate this argument, before attempting to dismount in a rather clumsy fashion. Having observed mankind on horseback since he was the tiniest of babies, there was some form of method to his endeavor. Norah and Wally smiled quietly at one another as he labored to disentangle himself from the saddle.

" _And_ mine been getting off the pony, mine thinkit," the small boy pronounced. Turning to Wally, he looked up with an enquiring eye. "Dad—now plenty good time to try wiv larger pony? And Dad ride wiv me?"

"Why, you young buckjumper," laughed Norah, patting the Shetland's neck. "Are you in search of wilder steeds, Davie?"

"On'y a bigger pony, so's Dad can ride wiv me," came the steadfast reply.

Wally grinned again and scooped up his small son. "Naturally, old chap. Come on, Norah, asthore; to the stables we go, in search of a more appropriate means of transportation!" He tucked Davie under one arm, amidst protests that, "Mine plenty big enough to walk!" and reached for Norah with his other hand. Wrapping it about her waist, the trio ambled toward the stables, with Shetland in tow.

A quarter of an hour later, Norah had retired to a convenient perch to observe the retreating forms of her husband and son. Davie was screened from view by Wally's long back as the pair walked placidly across the paddock on a small, steady horse kept handy for just such moments. Norah smiled absently as she watched. Wally's long legs were barely a foot off the ground, and his boots brushed the long grass stalks. Having travelled some two-hundred yards away, he circled the horse to the left, bringing Davie into view.

The small King-of-all-Billabongs was sitting on a pillow in front of his father. He sat very tall, and Norah could tell he refrained from flailing his small arms and legs in delight by the slimmest margin. Even from a distance, she knew he smiled. Wally's protective hand held Davie pressed against himself, whilst the other managed the willing horse with ease. As they drew closer, Norah noticed the perfect content on both faces. She found it difficult to express the pleasure she gained from watching the two, so very alike, gambol about with one another. The months of pain and anxiety when Wally had believed that Davie was lost to them forever had exacted a heavy toll on both parents. As firmly as Norah had held to her conviction that the small boy could not really have been lost to them in Ryan's Cove, she breathed a sigh of sublime happiness as the two curly, black heads bobbed in unison on a horse's back.

"Muvver," called Davie as they drew close, "it won't be long mine thinkit till I can ride'em this pony by mine self!"

Wally glanced solemnly down at his son. "I am glad to see you displaying such traces of assertiveness, young Davie." He glanced up with a twinkle at Norah. "Mother is far too domineering for her own good."

Norah, face placid, slipped off the fence rail and moved to stand beside them. One hand rested upon her husband's knee and she smiled upwards.

"It shan't be long at all, old son, if you pay good attention to what Dad says. He will teach you very well, and you will be the best stockman Billabong has ever seen."

Wally dismounted then, and retrieved Davie with a blithe smile. "I shall retire gracefully amidst your praise, young Norah. I'm quite dazzled—and rather concerned at the notion of living up to a reputation!"

Norah slipped her arm into his with a sly twinkle. "Never fear; I'm sure it shan't last long."

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 **Yet another missing moment from the Billabong universe.**

 **This one is specially dedicated to _run with the doctor_ \- Ally - who requested that I write this Billabong scene. I hope you like it!**


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